Second Chance At Life
by Blissaster
Summary: I wish, oh how I wish with everything that I have, everything that I am, that we can have another chance at life. Another try, to get another ending, a better ending. Reincarnation fic.


**Darren: The Orphanage**

I remember, people you have killed –Tommy, Shancus, the list goes on—things you have done—lying, manipulating, killing, causing _war_…

My anger sparks.

I remember, how you "killed" Mr. Crepsley. The satisfied look on your face, the cruel smile on your lips, the glint in your eyes. How your voice mocked me…

My hatred burns, brighter than ever.

And I swear…

_I _will _kill you._

You only laugh, saying, mocking I can't do it.

But I prove you wrong, don't I? I drive my knife into your chest after all. Your eyes widened in surprise, and I smiled cruelly at you.

_Didn't expect that, did you?_

And I twist the knife on my hand, needing to, _wanting_ to end your life.

I remember, Des Tiny. Father. _Our_ father. In our last battle, in your dying breath, he comes, saying that we're his sons. And I see, how it lights up your eyes. And you promise him, you'll give him your loyalty, your love, your life, anything—_anything!_— if he helps you. If he loves you. Only he does not.

I remember, how he brutally rejects you. How the light in your eyes dims before it vanishes completely, leaving torrent of emotions behind.

Anguish.

Despair.

_Hurt._

And it pains me, to see you hurt.

_You used to be my best friend. You _are_ my brother._

And I understand now. That it is not what you want, never what you want. You are merely pawn in father's chessboard. So am I.

And I wish, oh how I wish with everything that I have, everything that I am, that we can have another chance at life. Another try, to get another ending, a _better_ ending.

* * *

><p>In the orphanage, Darren was known as Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. The one with top scores and bunch of friends. The one who always behaved, who set example for the other. He was the perfect role model.<p>

On the other hand, Steve Leonard—or Leopard, as people usually called him—was a troublemaker. The one who did not give a damn about school and friends. The one who always set pranks and caused mischief wherever he went. He was the exact opponent of Darren.

As strange as it was but Darren found himself attracted to the blond. At first, he thought that was because they were of the same age –they were the only twelve years old in the orphanage— or because they had similar conditions –both were found when they were only babies.

But he was wrong.

He learned that when he started having… dreams. Dreams that felt eerily familiar to him. It was like he had seen them before, had been _in_ them. It was like they were… memories. Memories of his life before.

But it could not be, right? After all, there was no silly things such as reincarnations, right? Right? He did not know for sure. But he did not dare to ask to any of the matrons either. He feared if they found about his dreams, he would be sent off to a mental hospital or the like. So he kept silent.

Until Steve confronted him.

"You have them, do you?" Steve asked, brutally blunt as always, his pale blue eyes locking into his own brown ones. "Those strange memory-like dreams."

Darren tensed, his mind whirling. How could Steve—of all people—know? And more importantly, could he be trusted? Should he tell him the truth? Or should he lie?

"I…" the lie was half-formed when Steve said.

"I have them too."

And his lie died in his throat. Before he knew it, he had blurted out, "You have them too?" he asked in disbelief and excitement. Then his hands flew to his mouth the second he realized that he had just admitted that yes, he had those, as Steve called it, "strange memory-like dreams."

He cursed inwardly. "I mean…" he stuttered, trying in vain to take back what he had just said.

But Steve had already heard it, crystal clear. He smirked triumphantly at Darren. "I knew it."

Darren glared at Steve, who only grinned in response. Darren rolled his eyes, "You don't lie, do you?" he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Of course not!" Steve answered indignantly. "You know I never lie."

"But you never mind telling confusing half-truths," Darren pointed out, though he did not press the matter further. Steve Leopard was many things, but liar was not one of them, he knew this. The blond had this strange pride about never lying. He preferred to get caught in trouble rather than outright lying, though, like he had said, the blond did not mind telling half-truths.

"Telling half-truths is not the same with lying. " Steve said.

Darren just rolled his eyes at that statement. "Whatever."

For a moment, neither boy said anything, content with the silence.

"Hey, do you think what we should do?" he asked, "about our… memories."

There was a brief pause before Steve said, "Do you… Can you remember your dreams? _Any_ of them?" he asked, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

Darren frowned. Now Steve brought it up, he realized that actually he did not remember exactly what his dreams were about. He closed his eyes, trying to remember. At first, there were only images flashed before his eyes, they were brief and stood alone. He dug deeper, trying to make connections between them. Then finally, scenes played before his eyes.

Of him killing another person.

His eyes snapped open, though they were glazed –he was still lost in his memories— and his breaths came as gasps. For a moment, he could just sit there, looking down at his clenched hands on his lap, too upset to say anything.

"I…" he tried to say when even the silence became unbearable. But the lump in his throat prevented him. He gulped. "… I… I killed… I…" his breath hitched, tears burning in his eyes, "Oh, gods, I…"

_I killed someone._

The realization hit him, hard. And he found himself gasping for breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. He looked up, only to see Steve smiling awkwardly at him. It was clear the blond was not used to comfort people. He smiled, albeit weakly, at that.

He took a deep breath then, trying to calm his nerves. "I killed someone," he said, his voice wavered towards the end, but he made sure not to break eye-contact with Steve. He waited, with breath held, for the disgust or the rejection –or worse _both_—to come, but Steve only nodded calmly, as if he had expected it.

"So did I," Steve said.

Darren's eyes widened both in surprise and disbelief. "You did?" he asked, not knowing whether he had to be horrified because Steve had just admitted calmly that he killed someone, or be happy because that meant he was not alone. In the end, he chose to ignore about the killing and be happy that he was not alone in this.

Steve nodded solemnly. "Can you remember the face?" he asked.

Darren bit his lip, hesitating. On one hand, he was scared—frightened really—to dig deeper, to find things, _memories_, best left forgotten. But on the other hand, he also was curious as to what kind of a person he used to be.

So he chose to take a bet and closed his eyes, once again focusing his thoughts on his dream.

The picture came slowly. First it came as a faceless person in average height. Then came the hair, short, straight, and… was it grey? Somehow he knew it was not grey because of age. The nose and lips soon followed. And at last, came the eyes. They were sharp. They were blue, pale blue, just like Steve's.

He frowned. Came to think of it, this person he killed looked exactly like Steve except for the hair and the age. But if Steve was a little bit older and dyed his hair grey... Could it be…?

"I killed you, didn't I?" he asked dryly, though deep down he already knew the answer. His heart sank at the thought.

As strange as it was though, Steve did not appear to be angry, if anything there was a wide smile on his face, as if he was proud for Darren to remember such important detail. "Well, to be fair, I killed you back," he said, grinning.

Darren looked up at Steve, eyes wide in surprise—_when Steve would stop surprising me,_ he wondered. "Really?" Steve only nodded. "We hated each other's guts, didn't we?" he remarked dryly.

Steve snorted. "No shit, Sherlock."

"But why?" Darren asked almost desperately. He did not like the thought of them hating each other, that was for sure. "Why did we hate each other? That doesn't make sense!"

Because if it was true, then how would he explain the strange attraction he felt towards Steve?

"We used to be friends," Steve said suddenly.

Darren could only look at him. "Huh?"

"Back then, we used to be friends," Steve repeated. "Best friends. You were like a brother to me," he explained, his eyes glazed as he lost in thoughts. "But then you betrayed me. You left me," his voice, as well as his eyes, turned cold.

"You misunderstood!" Darren exclaimed at once. "I didn't betray you! I tried to save your life! There was no other choice, it was leaving you or letting you die! And I couldn't let that happen! I wouldn't!"

Truth be told, he did not really know what he was talking about. It just felt right to say those things.

"I didn't believe that," Steve said, his face darkening. "I still don't."

Darren bit his lip, thinking hard. Steve had said what his opinion on the matter, and knowing him, he would not change his mind anytime soon, if ever.

So, Darren chose to try a different approach. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. Steve looked taken aback, surely he did not expect this. Taking advantage of Steve's surprise, he continued, "Whatever my reason was, I can't deny the fact that I hurt you," by now he did not need to act, he truly felt sorry for hurting him. "And for that, I apologize. Will you forgive me?" he asked, looking at Steve in the eye, nervousness and hope swelling in his chest.

For a moment, Steve only looked at him, face blank. Then his expressions softened, a smile tugging up his lips. "Apology accepted."

A wide, relieved smile appeared on Darren's lips, and without really thinking about what he was about to do—or the consequences—he hugged Steve. "Thank you! Thank you very much!"

Steve, who was too shocked to response, just sat there, doing exactly nothing. Then he blinked, regaining his lost composure and he shove Darren away.

Darren was about to apologize again –he did not want to ruin his relationship with Steve after all— when he noticed that Steve's face had gone all red.

_He's blushing!_ He thought rather belatedly. Then the realization of _Steve, the Leopard, is _**blushing**_!_ Fully dawned on him and he grinned, from ear to ear. Oh the blackmail material he could have, had he had a camera now.

"Wh-What're you smiling about!" Steve snapped, glaring at him. A glare so fierce it would send any children, and lesser adults, away. But the mighty glare had lost its effect, remembering Steve's face was red to the ears. If anything, it only made Darren's grin wider.

"Ow, don't be shy," Darren mock-cooed. Steve growled threateningly. But Darren only smirked back, head tilted back in challenging manner. And before he knew it, Steve had tackled him.

They both fell to the ground, Steve getting the upper hand over Darren, who was unprepared. And before long, Steve had sat on his back, grinning toothily, eyes glinting. He raised his hands, ready to tickle. "Give up?"

But Steve was mistaken if he thought Darren would go down easily. "Never!" Darren cried out, buckling with all his might. Caught off guard, Steve tumbled to the side, grunting. Not one to waste a chance, Darren rolled over, changing their position. "Ha!" now it was Darren's turn to grin triumphantly. "Give up?"

"In your dream!" Steve spat. And the fight began anew. They wrestled, kicking, punching, sometimes even biting, doing anything to gain the upper hand.

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves lay on the floor, trying to catch their breaths. None won.

After his breathing was somewhat steady, Steve propped himself on his elbow, glaring down at Darren, who only raised his eyebrows in question. "Don't you dare to do that again! You hear me? Never!"

Darren's eyebrows raised even higher at that, amused. "Sure. Whatever you say," he said, shrugging.

"I'm serious," Steve growled, "Do it again and I will—"

"Can I kiss you then?" Darren asked, cutting off Steve's threat effectively. He smiled, trying to look as innocent as possible. Steve's eyes widened comically, he spluttered, face reddening from anger or embarrassment Darren did not know, perhaps from both.

And Darren burst out laughing.

* * *

><p>Later, Darren learned that Steve was <em>brilliant<em>—there was no other words, really—at pranking. Though he had one major weakness, that was he was so focused on the prank that he never thought about the escape. He was the type who would not mind getting caught as long as the prank was carried successfully.

While Darren was, unsurprisingly, was the exact opposite. To him, an escape route was the most important part in a prank plan. So naturally, the responsibility of finding –and sometimes making— escape fell to his shoulder. He did not mind that, not at all.

He would not admit it, but he liked pulling pranks. Well, it was not the prank itself, but the feeling of being depended on, of being trusted by someone, it was nice. Especially if that someone was as independent as Steve.

And it felt right, this friendship they shared.

Of course, their friendship was not perfect, far from it actually. Steve, just like any other person, had flaws. In his case, Steve could be particularly cruel when he wanted to, especially if revenge was involved. Though for Darren, it was just another reason to stick with Steve.

To an extent, it was similar to how their roles differed in pranking. In their prank plan, it was he who had to think about the escape, while in their friendship, he had to draw a line and made sure Steve did not cross it.

Though most of the matrons, if not all, did not see it that way. For them, Steve was, as they liked to dub it, "a very bad influence." Some even called him a little monster.

The first time Steve heard it, he had laughed, waving his hand in the most nonchalant manner, saying he did not give a damn about their opinion on him. It was just an act though, and Darren could see right through it. He could see the hurt and the doubt reflected on those pale blue eyes.

He decided he did not like it. Hurt did not suit Steve and doubt certainly did not either. So he tried to erase them.

"You know," Darren said casually, "I don't mind being a monster, if it means staying with you."

Steve was stunned. For a moment, he could only look at Darren, speechless. Then his face brightened and he grinned from ear to ear. "I know," he said in his most smug voice.

Darren rolled his eyes at that, though he did not miss the grateful look Steve sent his way. He smiled back, feeling satisfied for succeeding in getting his friend back to his usual confident self.

That was when he realized that he did not say those words for the sake of cheering Steve up only. They were true.

* * *

><p>With Steve by his side, it was easy to forget the fact that they were at an orphanage. That, at any times, there could be someone out there who wanted to adopt one of them, thus separating them. And Darren was reminded of that fact in the most painful way.<p>

Darren was just chatting with Steve in their shared room when a matron came, telling him that the head matron wanted to see him. Darren frowned, looking at the matron questioningly, wondering what he could have done that made the head matron want to see him, alone. But the matron only smiled at him, saying, "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Darren's frown deepened. He turned to look at his friend, hoping the blond could give him some sort of explanation. But Steve only grinned widely at him.

"So, you finally have the nerve to pull a prank all by yourself, eh?" Steve said, pulling Darren into a headlock before ruffling his hair vigorously. "Little Darren's gone all grown up now!" he exclaimed dramatically. "I'm so proud of you, boy!" he whacked Darren's back –which made Darren glare at him, which was ignored— before pretending to wipe a tear of joy from the corner of his eye.

"But I didn't do anything!" Darren denied vehemently.

"Ah, ah, ah. Remember the rule, Darren: no lies," Steve said, waving his forefinger in front of Darren's face in chiding manner. Darren tried to protest but Steve was pushing him towards the door already. "I want all the details later, okay?" Steve said, grinning widely. And before Darren could say a word, he slammed the door in front of Darren's face.

Darren glared at the door, though he knew it was no use. He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

_It seems I've no choice,_ he thought before he turned around and started walking towards the head matron's room, wondering all the way there what he had done to deserve this.

Before long, Darren had reached his destination: the head matron's room. But instead of knocking the door, he just stood before it and stared. He frowned, his hand hovering above the door's knob, unsure whether to open it or not. He had a bad feeling about this, like _very_ bad.

For a moment he considered to run, before he remembered that he had no where to run.

_Oh, just open it already!_ He thought to himself angrily.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves –hoping, wishing, praying that his instinct was wrong for once— he opened the door.

And there, in the room, sat the head matron on her usual chair, her hands were folded neatly on the table, a gentle smile on her face. In front of her, sat a man and a woman Darren did not recognize.

_A couple,_ Darren thought, heart beating faster, _a married couple._

"Darren, meet Mr. and Mrs. Brown," the head matron introduced the couple, a gentle, reassuring smile on her lips. Darren turned his head to look at the couple, who smiled warmly at him, Mrs. Brown even waved at him. Not knowing what to do, he smiled back at them.

There was only one reason as to why an orphan was called to meet the head matron and a married couple.

_Adoption,_ he thought with dread. _Please, please, please... Not that… Don't—_

"They want to adopt you."

His heart fell. He could feel as his world crumble down, its pieces scattered all around his feet.

* * *

><p>Darren stood in front of his and Steve's room, not wanting to go back, yet having nowhere to go.<p>

For most, if not all, of the orphans here saw this orphanage as a home, a place where they belonged. But truth be told, he never felt that way. To him, this orphanage was not a home, it never was. He did not belong here.

If there was a place where he truly felt at ease, that was in his shared room, by Steve's side.

And now, there was a chance that place would be taken away from him.

The door was jerked open suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Are you going to open the door or do you plan to stand there all night?" Steve asked, a teasing grin on his lips. When Darren only smiled back at him weakly, he sobered up, his grin vanished, replaced by a frown. Without saying anything, he took Darren's hand and led him to his bed.

"What happened?" Steve asked once they had settled comfortably on the bed. "Was it so bad? Your punishment? What did the old hag order you to do?" he rambled. Darren smiled slightly at Steve's unfitting nickname for the head matron—old hag. "I swear I will…" he punched his palm with his other hand, eyes glinting vengefully.

"There was no punishment," Darren said, his voice was barely a whisper.

"What? What do you mean there's no punishment?" Steve asked, bewildered. "What did she call you for then?"

Darren did not answer this time, he just laughed. It was high-pitched and it sounded panicky, almost hysterical.

"Darren?" Steve asked cautiously, looking both confused and worried at the same time.

And Darren was touched. Steve was not the type who would show emotions –especially emotions like worry— so openly. Yet, here he was, worrying about him. But his emotions were so mixed up now, and his thoughts jumbled and he did not know what to do, or what to say, so he just laughed and laughed, not caring if it sounded hysterical –because it was— and that his cheeks were wet now, he was crying, because he was so lost now and…

And then suddenly he was wrapped in an embrace, a familiar scene filling his nostril. He felt himself relax, head slumping to rest on to a shoulder that felt strangely familiar and yet not. He was wondering who could possibly hug him –because Steve was not the type to hug either— when he realized, rather belatedly, that there were only the two of them in the room. Which meant it was Steve who was hugging him.

And Steve meant safety, so he let go and just cried.

* * *

><p>"Sorry," Darren said, sniffing, wiping the remnants of his tears with the back of his hand.<p>

"No worry," Steve said. "Just remember, next time you want to cry your eyes out, warn me first, yeah?" he joked.

"Yeah," Darren nodded, smiling slightly, not for the first time feeling grateful for having Steve as his friend. "Steve…?" he called hesitantly after a moment of silence. Steve turned to look at him, head tilted to a side in a questioning manner. "I…" he started, feeling he had to explain to Steve about what had happened.

"You don't have to, you know," Steve said, understanding. But Darren could see the curiosity gleamed on his eyes.

Darren shook his head. "No, I must do this. You deserve that much."

Steve shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Darren took a deep breath to calm his nerves before saying, "The head matron introduced me to a married couple."

"Oh?" was Steve's only response as he raised an eyebrow, looking as calm as ever. But Darren knew him too well not to notice how his hand clenched or how his shoulders tensed in anticipation. He knew Steve knew what usually ensued after an orphan was introduced to a married couple.

Darren continued, regardless Steve's anxiety. "Their names are Mr. and Mrs. Brown," he said. "They look quite nice." Steve's jaws gritted, as if waiting for a bomb to drop. Drop it did. "They want to adopt me."

"And?" Steve asked stiffly, his hand clenched so tight his knuckle turned white.

"I…" Darren considered to lie, before he remembered their promise to each other.

_No lies between us._

And his lie died in his throat. "… I said I'll think about it," he said truthfully, head hung down, afraid to see what Steve's reaction was.

Even when he did not look at Steve, he still could hear the grinding of Steve's teeth. Steve was furious, he knew that. He could feel it, the anger that was radiating from Steve. It was like a tidal wave, drowning him in guilt.

"So," Steve said after a moment of uncomfortable silence, "you'll abandon me?" he asked, his voice was icy cold, though Darren could also hear the hurt underneath. "Just like everybody else?"

"Abandon you? No!" Darren denied, shaking his head frantically. "I don't mean to…" his words died on his lips as he saw the look on Steve's face, the hurt that reflected clearly on those blue eyes.

"What do you mean then?" Steve's voice was painfully quiet as he asked that.

Darren looked down at his lap. "I don't know," he whispered, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at Steve in the eye. He could see the emotions flickered in his friend's eyes –anger, hurt, betrayal, hate. At one point, the rage was so dominant that he was sure Steve would beat him to a pulp.

_He should,_ Darren thought. _I deserve that._

Steve raised his hand, ready to strike him. Out of instinct, Darren lifted his arms to protect his face. He closed his eyes, heart beating fast as he waited for the blow he was sure would come.

But none came.

Slowly, unsurely, Darren let his arms down, glancing at Steve nervously. He had expected Steve to yell at him, to beat him even. He had expected anything, anything but _this_.

Steve just looked down at him, his hands loose at his side, shoulders slumped in defeat. Gone was the anger, the rage, only to be replaced with bitterness.

Darren opened his mouth, wanting, _needing to_ say something, because he did not know this Steve and it was beyond frightening and he had to say something –_anything!_– to bring the Steve he knew, but there was a lump in his throat and the words he wanted to say just would not come out!

"I should've known," was all Steve said before he turned around and walked out.

Darren just sat there, too shocked to do anything, looking at his side, where Steve had been mere minutes before. He bit his lip, remembering the hurt on Steve's face, the bitterness in his voice…

His heart clenched painfully.

He wished Steve had beaten him instead. May be the pain would lessen then.

* * *

><p>Darren did not chase after Steve, even though he knew he could. He was faster than Steve after all and he knew where Steve went to, the park not very far from the orphanage. Steve always went there went he was upset and wanted to be alone.<p>

And that was the reason why he did not chase the blond. Steve was upset, and it was better to leave him alone for the time being, giving him time to cool off. Not to mention he himself needed time to sort out his own thoughts.

_Okay, Shan, you better lay all the facts out,_ he thought to himself.

First fact: he did not belong in the orphanage. He belonged by Steve's side. Which meant Steve was, to an extent, essential to him.

Second fact: even though his hope of finding his real family –or rather, his family coming to him— had vanished, but deep down inside he still longed for a family. He wanted to have parents, and perhaps brothers and/or sisters. In other word, he actually wanted to be adopted.

Third fact: it was almost impossible –or was it _certainly_ impossible?— for him to be adopted along with Steve.

Conclusion: he had to choose. Between a family he had always wanted –and still did— or Steve, the person with whom he felt belonged.

_The problem is, I can't choose,_ he thought grimly. _Or rather I_ don't want _to._

* * *

><p>Darren glanced towards the clock on his drawer next to his bed.<p>

12.08 a.m.

And Steve had yet to come back.

He bit on his lip and started pacing anxiously again. At times stopping to look at the door or the window –where there was a conveniently placed tree outside, that made it easy to sneak in or out of their room even though it was on second floor— hoping Steve would come in, only to sigh in disappointment when no one came. At other times, he sat on the edge of his bed, feet tapping nervously, still stealing glances towards the door and window now and again.

12.15 a.m.

Still, no Steve.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He understood, oh how he understood Steve was upset and wanted, needed to be alone. But that did not mean he could act so recklessly like this. Did not Steve know –better than anyone else— what a dangerous place the world could be, especially at time like this.

_Anything can happen to him,_ he thought, his worry driving him crazy. _He can get mugged. Or drugged. Or raped, or kidnapped, or beaten up or…_ his heart beat faster with each thought, the latter was always worse that the former._ Or worst, he can get killed._ At that thought, his heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched in his throat.

_Enough! _He thought angrily, forcing himself to stop thinking of what misfortunes could have befallen his friend. Not wanting to be tormented by not knowing any longer, he decided to look for the blond and bring him back home, even though he had to drag him screaming and kicking all the way.

He stood up, striding towards the closet and took Steve's jacket –the night was warm, but just in case he would need it— before he headed to the window. Taking a deep breath, knowing full well that he was about to sneak out _in the middle of the night_, he opened the window. Only to find himself face to face with Steve, who was perched on the branch that protruding close to the window, hand stretched out, ready to knock.

He stared at Steve, in too much shock to say anything. Steve stared back at him.

It was Steve who broke the silence first.

"Yo," Steve said, raising his hand in greeting.

And Darren was snapped out of his shock. Relief and anger fought for dominance in his mind. Relief won. His body was relaxing as relief flooded his system. Relief because Steve had come back –alive and seemingly unhurt— and because for whatever reason Steve had forgiven him, at least for the time being.

"Good night to you too," Darren said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He stepped back, giving more space for Steve to jump into the room. Steve licked his lip, readying himself. He leapt into the room and instead of landing gracefully like he always did –and always bragged about— he stumbled. He would have fallen, had Darren not been there to steady him.

"Thanks," Steve said, flashing a grin in Darren's direction.

Darren frowned, looking at his friend from head to toe and noticed that Steve was not as fine as he had hoped. "What happened?" he asked, hand stretching to touch the black eye Steve was sporting now. Steve looked away, as if to hide it, but Darren had already seen it, along with the gauze on his cheek and the bandage around his head. "Steve?" Darren asked, his voice was filled with worry now.

Steve sighed before he took Darren's elbow and led him to the bed. "You better sit down for this," he said. Darren bit his lip, heart beating faster. He never liked it when Steve said he better took a seat. The news he brought was never good when that was the case.

"You know that there are some… gangs around here, right?" Steve asked cautiously. Darren nodded, that was one of the reasons as to why he had been very worried back then. "Well, let's say I just meet some members of some gang and…" he trailed off, not knowing how to continue without upsetting his friend, too much.

"They chose to beat you," Darren deadpanned, arms crossed across his chest.

"Well… I fought back you see, but…" Steve said, trying to defend himself.

"But you're just a twelve year old and they all were bigger and older. Not to mention they outnumbered you," Darren said scarily calmly. It was like the calm before storm.

Steve cringed at that. "Guess I was lucky someone came before it got too bad, eh?" he tried to smile. It came as grimace instead.

"You could've died," Darren said quietly.

Steve nodded. "I could've," he agreed, brutally honest as always.

"They could've beaten you half to death. You could've bled to death, all alone in some alley and I wouldn't know," Darren said, looking up at Steve, pained. "Not until it's too late," his voice went quieter. He closed his eyes. And the image of Steve dying flashed before his eyes.

Skin pale as a sheet, blue eyes open yet unseeing, frozen in fear. And he just lay there, not moving, not breathing, because he was dead.

_Dead._

His breath hitched.

Dead. Dead. Deaddeaddeadde—blood pooling around him, contrasting his too pale skin. Dead because _he_ –it was Darren himself— had driven the knife into his stomach, twisting it with malicious glee, wanting, _needing_ him to die, his blood staining _his_ hand. But _he_ did not want this, not his blood, nor his life. But _he_ did not have other options because _he_, they all were just pawns, and pawns were disposable and _he_ cried. _He_ cried because it hurt, it hurt so much to see him dying –because they used to be best friend and they were brothers— and _he_ wished… oh how _he_ wished…

"—ren! Darren!"

His eyes snapped open, Steve's call snapping him out of his thoughts —or should he say _memories_.

Steve was looking at him, blue eyes shone with worry. "Darren…?"

"You could have died," Darren whispered, hand hovering in front of Steve's cheek as if unsure to touch it. Truth be told, he was scared. Scared Steve would dissolve under his touch. Then it would mean that Steve truly was dead.

Seeming to understand Darren's illogical fear, he brought Darren's hand to his cheek. "But I'm not," Steve said in matter-of-fact tone, leaning to Darren's touch to emphasize his point. "See?"

Darren sighed, relieved, the feeling of Steve's warm skin under his palm calming him. "You're alive," he murmured, resting his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah," Steve said, awkwardly patting Darren's back in his effort to comfort.

Darren hummed, content to stay where he was. Steve let him, knowing his friend needed this, as strange as that sounded.

Once his fear was subsided, Darren looked up, locking eyes with Steve. "I'm not leaving," he said. Steve, caught off guard by the seemingly out of blue question, could only stare at Darren in confusion.

"I'm not leaving," he repeated, sounding more determined this time. "I'm refusing the adoption."

Steve was taken aback, though Darren could also see the pleased gleam on his eyes. "What's with the sudden change of heart?" he asked, trying to act nonchalant, but the grin on his lips betrayed his real feeling.

Darren looked at Steve right in the eye and said, "I need you, Steve Leonard. As much as you need me, if not more."

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

**If you haven't guessed, this story is a reincarnation of some sort. The part that's in first pov is Darren the vampire prince.**

**This can be seen as purely brotherly or slash. Either way I don't mind. Besides, if I insist this is no slash, will you fangirls really see it as such? ... I don't think so.**

**I'm in need of Beta. Someone who can also kick my hide if I get too lazy. I know where I want to take this story, the problem is I'm not sure if I get the will to write it down and post it. Thus the need of Beta.**

**Until next time, hopefully in not so distant future.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Darren Shan. If I did, it would be Steve Leonard instead Darren Shan. Lol.  
><strong>


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